


Two Faced

by twentyonehelium



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Peter has a crush, Peter thinks having a 'stranger' tell Wade he's awesome will help, Rated T for F Word, Wade has insecurities, pointless rambling really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyonehelium/pseuds/twentyonehelium
Summary: Peter is a poor college student, and has taken up pretending to be a costumed busker in-costume to feed himself. And as bad luck would have it, one day, Deadpool spots his favourite arachnid, and Peter wants to DIE. Inspired by that gif circulating of a woman giving a man busking in a Spiderman costume some cash after she takes a photo with him, and once she leaves he rips his mask off and it's Andrew Garfield, going YISSSSSSSS.





	

This cannot be happening. 

This _cannot_ be happening.

Peter had always known he had bad luck, but _really_? New York City covered over three hundred squared miles, and yet here Deadpool, and that was _definitely_ Deadpool, was.

* * *

 

Times Square was a gold mine, really. The colorful commercial intersection teemed with broad backed businessmen in their immaculate suits and lipsticked business women in the season’s trendiest fashions bustling toward their next important meeting. And the _tourists_ , schools of them milling about with cameras strapped around their necks that they knew could not _possibly_ capturethe entirety of the wonder, color and sheer _movement_ that was one of America’s busiest streets.   

So, they took pictures of other things instead. Like costumed buskers.

“Thank you dearie, you do look so adorable,” the old lady pinched Peter’s cheeks through the spandex of his mask. “Your costume is absolutely wonderful, _so_ realistic, you look _just_ like him. Why, I feel as though I’ve already met him myself!”

Peter forced a slightly maniacal nervous laugh. “Thanks, erm. I made it myself! Huge fan of Spiderman too, that’s me.”

The old lady smiled fondly at him, patting him on the cheek like he was her own grandson, before keeping her smartphone (man, old ladies sure are advanced these days…) and pressing several crisp dollars into his hands, wishing him a good luck for the rest of the night.

_Yesssssss._

“Thanks, you have a great time in New York!” 

You see, Peter thought, pocketing the notes. The thing about these tourists , other than just how _nice_ they were, was their unique ability to save starving poor-as-dirt college students secretly superheroes from an impending doom better known as starvation.

Superhero, actually. Not superheroes. 

Peter sighed. 

Thinking about it, he was probably the only superhero in Manhattan still in college. Peter looked up, where he could see the Stark tower glowing amidst the high-rises that surrounded Times Square, and sighed. It was sad how he was probably also the only one poor enough to prostitute his costume for a few quick bucks.

Sure, if he would just let Gwen catch just a _whiff_ of the instant ramen he had been inhaling by the cratefuls the past few weeks, she would probably bring him to Dominos, order the biggest pizzaon the menu saying she was _starving_ , then have half a piece and say she was on a diet, was Peter _crazy_ she’s not going to eat any more of that greasy stuff did he know how bad it was for a girl’s skin, and insist he took the rest home. 

But Peter knew Gwen had been going through a rough spot recently, what with the divorce hanging over her head. The last thing he wanted was to give her something else to worry about. 

He even made sure to throw all his empty noodle cups straight down the rubbish cute. Gwen was sharp, and he was taking no chances leaving evidence lying around.

Thing could be worse, he comforted himself. He could be operating on a severe lack of sleep. Or with fresh bruises. Or aching muscles. The criminal masses had been strangely quiet of late, and even their usual dark-alley hideouts and rendezvous spots were empty. It was odd. 

“Whelp,” Peter muttered. “Can’t complain.”

“I sure can’t,” a voice whispered, right next to Peter’s ear. “Hello Spidey.”

Peter’s stomach did a flip at the same time his heart stuttered and _stopped_. No way.

This cannot be happening. 

Peter whirled around, and found his face inches from Deadpool’s trademark red and black mask. He leapt back with a yelp, feeling blood rush quickly to his cheeks. He looked away quickly, for an instant forgetting he had a mask on. Okay so he have thought it was sweet how the latter was always proclaiming ‘his Spidey’ to be his OTL (One True Love), and he might be _appreciative_ of Deadpool’s muscular build, witty (if not sometimes inappropriate) charm, and thought and-

His height, apparently. Peter had never noticed just how much taller than him Deadpool was. Almost every time he had been close to the mercenary before this, he had been either hanging from a web, or sitting next to him on some rooftop eating tacos. 

Turns out, Deadpool towered a good six inches taller, smirking down at him through a ratty mask. 

There were a million and one reasons Peter would rather not have run into Deadpool while busking in costume, the most salient of which being he that was pretty sure Dr Steven, as nice as he was, would laugh at him if he went to him for a treatment for hurt pride. 

Peter started as a red gloved hand waved in front of his face. “Hello, earth to Spidey, earth to Spidey.” 

And apparently his minor mental breakdown broke his fight or flight instincts too. Something he was about to very quickly rectify, muscles tensing and ready to sprint to the nearest alleyway to sling himself miles away from this situation, before Deadpool continued, oblivious.

“Alright, fine, partypooper. I _know_ he’s not the real Spidey. I don’t think the real Spidey is _this_ adorably tiny.” Peter couldn’t help but bristle at that comment. “And wouldn’t the press have a fucking field day if it _were_ Spidey. ‘Masked Vigilante Spiderman uses fame for money’. Psh. That Daily Bugle has something against Spiderman if you ask me, eh buddy? Not that your costume is bad or anything, it’s _awesome_ , could’ve fooled me. How much for a picture? Can I have ten? No, you're right, yellow, fifteen. Actually, how much for a private show? You don’t even have to take off the costume! Or much of it anyway, I was thinking just the pants will do- ”

Peter deflated, all the tension washing out of his body. Of _course_ Deadpool wouldn’t recognise him.

The mercenary clapped him heartily on the back. “Hey, I’m just kidding pal, my heart belongs to someone else. And I will not let my lowly body defile his existence!” He pressed clutched a hand to his heart dramatically before cheerfully perking up again. “A few pictures though, hot stuff. You work out? You’re in pretty good shape.”

It took Peter several moments to realise he was being asked a question. He had been marvelling at his close shave, and wondering just how he was going to wriggle out of this before something came loose. 

“Oh, yeah,” he ended up croaking in an attempt at a gravelly voice. “I work at a gym, I keep fit.” 

“ _Really?_ Oh wow cool! Which gym? Could you get me a membership discount? I promise I always put the dumbbells back on their racks.”

“Erm, no, I can’t make decisions like that, sorry.” Peter decided to strategically ignore the mercenary’s first question. “Listen, I actually have to-“

“Are you alright, bud? Your voice is all hoarse. Hey it is not cool to work so hard and not hydrate, here,” Peter had _no idea_ _where Deadpool whipped that bottle of water from._ God where does he _keep_ all that stuff- “Drink up!” 

Deadpool reached for Peter’s chin, and for one strange moment Peter thought he was going to grab him by the chin and -

Something. Peter irrationally fought back another embarrassed blush. 

But then he realised he was going for his _mask, and shit, Petey, stop being a weirdo, do something you’re on the dean’s list do something that won’t give you away quick -_

“NHEYALP!” he yelped, jumping backwards into a passer by, who promptly quipped a curt “Watch it” before going on his way without breaking step. 

_New Yorkers._

Deadpool was staring at him, eyebrow raised (Peter had once concluded that Wade’s expressions must be _extremely_ exaggerated for it to show through the mask, and amused himself imagining a grown man, heavily scarred from what he could see of his chin when he ate, making hilariously huge stage expressions), arm comically frozen in mid air, reaching for Peter’s mask.

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

“I’m sorry I have a bit of a rash it looks really horrible you wouldn’t want to see it, all red and hivey and stuff and I’m fine really-“

“Whoa whoa easy Bugs Bunny you’re talking a hundred miles an hour. Look,” Deadpool hooked a finger under his own mask and tugged it upwards, showing Peter a glimpse of the familiar scars and sympathetic grin. “You aren’t going to find any judging here, bud.”

“Oh.” Peter said intelligently, still trying to keep his pitch low.

“Yep!” The other chirped, but Peter didn’t miss the way he very quickly pulled the mask back down again, glancing surreptitiously around as if to make sure that no one else had seen his scars.

“Erm, for what it’s worth, De- Sir?” Peter didn’t think most people knew Deadpool, they tended to confuse him for, well, Spiderman. “I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of? Like - er - I keep the mask on mostly just because the rashes are sensitive right now, really, really sensitive, don’t want any more abrasion you know? And I think your scars are pretty cool! Must be a good conversation starter.” 

“Psh, yeah _if_ anyone wants to start a conversation after seeing them.”

“No! You-“ Peter coughed self consciously, continuing in his croaky voice. “You give off a great vibe, and you’re funny and you seem like a really caring guy in your own way, you don’t have to put yourself down like that.”

Peter trailed off when he realised Deadpool was quiet. Deadpool. Quiet. 

“Erm. Yeah. Man?” He finished lamely. 

“You’re a good guy, fake Spidey.” The red mask barely moved with how softly the mercenary was speaking. “I really hope your rashes get better soon.”

“Thanks, erm. So, how about those photos!” 

“RIGHT! LET”S GET THIS CAMERA ROLLIN’!” 

And the next ten minutes were devoted to the duo taking pictures on Deadpool’s camera (which he pulled out from _where_ , Peter did not want to think about), including a “bridal shot” that he insisted on, roping in a kind passer by to take a shot of Peter being reluctantly bridal carried by the mercenary (who, to his credit, did not try to cop a feel). 

“Well, that’s a wrap! And speaking of wraps, I am _really_ feeling for a burrito right now. My name’s Wade by the way, but you can call me anytime,” he struck a pose, winking. “And here, that should cover it.”

He pushed a few grimy notes into Peter’s hands, who just felt more _wrong_ with every moment. He shouldn’t be taking money from Deadpool like this, somehow this was different from taking pictures with curious tourists, and _were those hundred dollar notes?_

But when he looked up incredulously (verging on _furiously_ because _what the heck? Who had that much money to just throw around??_ ), the costumed hero had disappeared into the crowd. 

He stood there for a few moments, feeling a little lost, before resolving to pay it back to Deadpool somehow, and call it a day.

At least Deadpool didn’t recognise him, Peter supposed with a sigh of relief.

* * *

 

“That was definitely the real Spidey, wasn’t it.”

  **That was _so_ Spiderman.**

  _No way, you’re delusional Wade. That’s why you have us here with you, see?_

 “No, it _is_ though! Just look at that ass, I’d recognise that perfect little bubble butt anywhere.”

  _Oh wow. That_ is _Spiderman._

  **Go back up to him and smack that ass. Just to be 100% sure.**

  _Sure, way to get us in his good books._

  _“_ He’s a good guy.” Wade sighed, watching his Spidey’s retreating back from his vantage point on the roof. And at that, the boxes were silent for once.

 “Well!” He pushed himself back on his feet, rubbing his hands excitedly together. “Where shall we print those deliciously canon Spideypool pictures?”

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write something about Peter costume busking. Also, I can't seem to find that gif anymore, so if anyone can tell me where to find it please do and I'll link it. First contribution to the fandom, I really hope they're not too OOC. Hope you enjoyed anyways!
> 
> Link: https://i.redd.it/0nimaplzf6ux.gif   
> Thanks user Y in the comments section for providing the link!


End file.
